by Anne Cassidy
She’d seen some of the girls she had been friendly with the previous year. They’d returned to university early, moving in to new houses. They’d not snubbed her completely, but there had been no invites for lunch or coffee or drinks in the university bar. Jennifer was relieved. She dreaded questions, the inevitable enquiries. So, what happened? How come? Was it, like, self-defence? If you didn’t mean to do it how come you didn’t call an ambulance? What was it like in prison? Being close to people meant that they were entitled to some of your life story; Jennifer was pleased that she had become unpopular.
Sally was beating a couple of eggs in a jug. She was looking a little sleepy, her dressing gown bunched over where it hadn’t been tied properly. She yawned, using her forearm to cover her mouth.
“Heard from Jimmy?” she said.
Jennifer shook her head. She picked up her bag. “I’ll see you tonight. Remember, I’m cooking. Vegetable casserole. Will Robbie be here?”
“Does the night follow day?”
Jennifer left the house and headed down the hill towards the bus terminal. After a summer of walking to work on the esplanade it felt odd to be taking the bus again. It was sunny but there was a hint of cold in the air. Some gulls were sitting on the roof of a garage looking subdued, as though they knew the summer was over. The bus station was in shadow and she wished she’d worn a jacket. She pulled her phone out of her bag and checked it once more.
The screen was blank. No missed calls, no text messages.
Had she really thought that Jimmy might get in touch?
On the day after the court hearing she’d written him a letter and enclosed the passport she’d taken from his room. She’d tried to explain, in a faltering way, to sum up her life, to describe, to make excuses. In the end she’d deleted her attempts and sent him a few handwritten lines.
Dear Jimmy,
I know you’ll think badly of me now that you know the truth. I can’t make any excuses. I did what I did. I have to live with that. At least I don’t have to pretend any more. I’m enclosing Rebecca’s passport. I never actually used it. I’m sorry I took it. I was going through a desperate time.
Jennifer Jones.
She had been tempted to put Kate in brackets after her name just to reassure him that she was the same person he’d known but then she thought, What’s the point? It wasn’t like she’d been in love with him. He was a nice lad, easy to spend time with, but like everything else it had been predicated on a lie. Now she had to step out, make her life as Jennifer Jones. Finish her degree, get a job, find a place for herself in this world.
“Well, well, look who it is.”
A loud voice broke into her thoughts. She saw Aimee standing a few metres away, with her daughter, Louise. She began to smile but immediately sensed that it wasn’t the right thing to do. Aimee was holding her daughter’s hand up high, protectively, as though someone might be threatening to rip her away.
“You’ve got a nerve coming back here,” Aimee said, her eyes steely.
Some of the people at the bus stop looked round. Jennifer stepped away from the queue. She made eye contact with Louise, who looked puzzled. Aimee used her free hand to edge her daughter back so that she was standing partially behind her.
“You lied to us, to everyone. When all the while you’d done this terrible thing! There should be a law against people like you, people with fake IDs pretending to be like everyone else. I told you things about my family, my daughter…”
“Mummy, what’s wrong?” Louise said.
Aimee took a step towards her, holding her daughter behind her back. Jennifer looked around, embarrassed. She could just walk away, but where would she go? She was on her way to college. She had to expect that some people might react badly. This was something she had to endure. A group of women at the bus stop were staring at them. A schoolgirl, chewing gum, was pulling her earphones out, one by one, so that she could listen.
“Aimee, I…I had to live like that. It wasn’t my choice.”
“It was your choice to kill someone! A child!” she hissed.
A ticket inspector at another bus stop was frowning at them. He probably thought it was just an argument between two women.
“I’m sorry…I don’t know what to say…” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Why don’t you pack your bags and get away from here. We don’t want your sort living here.”
Jennifer stared down at the ground. She wondered how much longer she would stand there. Aimee was still talking, her voice droning on. You pretended to be someone else! You lied to me and I gave you my friendship! Louise was interrupting, asking her mother what was wrong. Her voice sounded high, as though she might burst into tears at any moment. The sound of a bus wheezing to a halt alongside them filled Jennifer’s ears and without a word she spun on her heel and walked towards it, ignoring Aimee’s tirade. She got on the bus and went up the back. She got a book out of her bag and opened it randomly and stared down at the pages, her eyes blurring on the print. She could hear other people getting onto the bus, the women perhaps who had been watching, the schoolgirl who had found the scene interesting enough to take her earphones out. There were other footsteps as well, and chatter, some boys bursting onto the bus on their way to school. She didn’t look up, she just tuned in and out of the fragments of conversation and felt her nerves uncoiling. It was clear that Aimee hadn’t followed her onto the bus.
She looked up from her book.
There was a banging on the window beside her. She turned and saw Aimee’s furious face, her mouth opening and shutting, as the bus moved away from the terminal and headed out onto the road. She swivelled and looked out the back window and saw Aimee standing still, her daughter next to her, rubbing her eyes as if she was crying.
She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and held it to her mouth, afraid she was going to burst into sobs. After a few moments she calmed down. She started to shred the tissue, pulling it into strips. Then she balled up the mess of tissue and pushed it down the side of her bag. She hugged herself. She was cold. She should definitely have worn a jacket. Or maybe she should have stayed at home, in her room, with the duvet pulled around her.
After the meeting with her mentor – Things might be difficult for you but we will support you, Jennifer – she walked towards the refectory at the far end of the campus. It was brimming with students but they were all new, preparing for their fresher’s week. She was relaxed because there was no chance of her bumping into anyone she knew. She bought a sandwich and a drink and took it out onto the grass. She sat down cross-legged and ate her sandwich while she stared off into the distance and wondered whether she’d done the right thing coming back to Exmouth. The meeting with Aimee had shaken her.
What had she expected? That everyone would be sweet and understanding? Sally and Ruth had welcomed her back and she had to be grateful for that. Even Robbie, who often didn’t seem to know which day of the week it was, had been kind. We’ve all got our skeletons, he’d said mysteriously to her, and she’d looked at him in a new light. His skeletons couldn’t have been as real as hers were though.
She had to stay. She had to live there as Jennifer Jones, otherwise it had all been a waste of time.
She stood up and took the food packaging to a bin. Then she saw a familiar face. Jimmy Fuller was walking towards her along the paths with some other students. She looked around for somewhere to go, to hide, so that she could avoid a meeting with him but it was too late. He’d seen her.
She patted her top, brushing off crumbs. Would he come across? Speak to her? She braced herself and looked over at him. He gave her a smile and a wave and continued talking to the students who were with him. As if she was someone he knew slightly, an acquaintance. She returned the wave and walked back across the grass towards the block where the library was. She went quickly, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. He was outwardly friendly; she had to be satisfied with that. She thought of Aimee again, her face twisted in hatr
ed. Anything was better than that.
When she got home there was a letter for her. The address was handwritten and the envelope had been franked. She pulled it open and inside there was a web page that had been printed off. It was from a news site, the Alexandra Palace Online Local. Most of it seemed to be filled with adverts but down the middle was a piece of news.
Raid at Photographer’s Yields Child Pornography
Mr Kenneth Cottis was arrested by police after a tip-off from a member of the public. During a search of his property indecent material was found and when his computer and hard drive were examined thousands of images of child pornography were discovered. Mr Cottis is on remand awaiting trial.
There was a Post-it stuck to the page.
Thought this would interest you. Lauren Heart.
She sat and looked at it for a long time. Then she folded it up and put it in her pocket. She cooked the evening meal, vegetable casserole as she’d said she would. It was gone six when she’d finished. Sally and Ruth were still out at work and she suddenly couldn’t face being with them, answering their questions about what kind of day she had had. She didn’t want to eat the vegetable casserole. She took the piece of paper out of her pocket again and tore it in half and half again and then into tiny fragments. The fact that she’d been right about Mr Cottis gave her no pleasure. She thought of Joe Bussell. She pictured him as she’d known him, a fourteen-year-old boy, physically larger than he should have been, wearing green army combats. In her mind she saw him saying goodbye to his family. Just going out for a drink with my mates, then taking the long slow walk from his home to Kings Cross Station. In his hand he had a carrier bag which held wire cutters and rope. This was no spur-of-the moment decision. His family, Lucy, his mother, the vile Stevie, none of them had known until days later.
She sat down at the table and cried.
After a while she knew she couldn’t stay in. She went up to her room and put her swimsuit on under her clothes and put her beach mat and towel in a bag. It was chilly, she knew, but the sea would clear her head.
She headed for the esplanade, avoiding going anywhere near the tourist information office. The beach was almost empty; just some couples walking along and a family still digging sandcastles, the children fully dressed, perhaps having a treat after a day at school. She walked along until she found an area that was empty and laid out her beach mat. She got undressed and felt the sharp breeze nipping at her skin. The best thing was to run into the water, to get the shock of the cold over and done with quickly. She hesitated though. The sea pulsed before her, the water swinging back and forth. The surface was pitted with white and looked ragged and unwelcoming.
She carefully picked her way down the beach, the shingle digging into the soles of her feet.
She stood for a second and let a wave wash across her toes. Then she started running. She sank one clumsy foot after another into the hard wet sand, her toes catching the edges of stones, the side of her foot feeling the scratch of something thorny, and then with a dive she broke the surface of the sea and went under. For a few seconds she heard nothing; with her arms and legs tight together she propelled herself like a marine creature through the dark water and then surfaced, letting out an exclamation of shock at the cold.
She swam, one stroke after another, keeping her face down in the water, sensing the taste of salt in her mouth. When she was tired she stopped and rested. She trod water.
The beach and the esplanade looked far away.
Somewhere in the hinterland was the house she lived in with Sally and Ruth. Beyond that was the university. Beyond that was the rest of her life; the places she would go, the jobs she might have, the family she might build.
Jennifer Jones, child killer.
Would she ever be able to leave that headline behind?
She swam back and got out of the water, gingerly, taking care not to hurt her feet. She walked across the sand and picked her towel up and put it round her shoulders. Trembling with cold she sat down on the mat and stared along the beach. A couple were walking along the edge of the waves. Her eyes stayed on them as they got closer to her. In between them was a young child. They were holding his hands and every now and then they gave the child a swing in the air. The child was laughing and shouting More, more, do it again, Dad! Mum, swing again! The couple were young, the woman not much older than Jennifer.
They smiled at her as they passed.
Jennifer put her T-shirt on over her damp costume. Soon she would go home. It was only a ten-minute walk and she could have a hot shower and get changed.
She didn’t move though. In the distance she could see the Starcross ferry making its way out of the harbour. She watched it until it disappeared.
A beeping sound came from her phone. She pulled it out of her bag. No doubt Sally was worried at seeing the vegetable casserole ready but no Jennifer anywhere around. She looked at the screen and was surprised to see the name Jimmy Fuller. She opened the text.
I don’t care what you did in your past. I just like you now xxx
She felt a lump in her throat and held the phone for a long time, staring at the words. She sent a reply.
Thank you xxx
Moments later there came another text. She opened it.
I want to see you, tonight, now xxx
She was suddenly full of emotion. She stifled a sob.
She could meet him in a pub or she could go to his house. Why not? They could laze about on the bed, watch DVDs, or he could cook something. She could do that now because he knew who it was he was seeing, he was under no illusions about her. There were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and sent another text, her fingers slipping off the keys, having to backspace a couple of times to get it right.
I’d love to. Where are you?
She pulled her jeans on and shoved her sandy feet into her shoes. She could be home and changed and out again in less than thirty minutes. There was another beep. She grabbed for her phone. She opened the message.
Right behind you xx
She swung round and saw him there, on the esplanade, sitting on a bench, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his phone in his hand.
She rolled up her beach mat and picked up her towel. She put them both into her bag and walked towards him.
Anne Cassidy
Anne Cassidy lived in London for most of her life. She was a teacher for twenty years. In 1989 she started writing books for teenagers. Her first book was published in 1991 and since then she has published over forty books, thirty of which have been teen novels. She writes crime fiction and is best known for her book Looking for JJ, which was shortlisted for the Whitbread Award 2004 and the Carnegie Medal 2005. She has one son and currently lives in Essex.
www.annecassidy.com
@annecassidy6
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © Anne Cassidy 2014
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4714-0229-6
This eBook was produced using Atomik ePublisher
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Hot Key Books is part of the Bonnier Publishing Group
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